“A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.” -Franz Kafka
Art is supposed to make you feel something.
That doesn’t mean it’s supposed to make you feel good.
A personal theatre story…
Years ago, I played “Bobby” in John Kolvenbach’s incredible play, On An Average Day, at Victory Gardens Theatre in Chicago. Certainly a highlight of my acting life.
After one performance, I was catching up with some good friends who had come to see the show. Standing behind them was a rather large, intimidating-looking man. Big bushy hair, long thick beard…Intense.
He appeared to be going through something. Pacing back and forth, shaking his head, trying to compose himself.
After a few minutes, I asked him if he was okay.
He looked at me, choking back tears, and all he could say, over and over, was:
“Man, why’d you have to DO that? I don’t understand….Why’d you have to DO that to me? I don’t want to feel this shit…”
He kept trying to find the words, but couldn’t. Tears streamed down his face. Finally, he apologized and walked away.
My friends and I just stood there, stunned.
Later that night, I described the incident to a few people in the company, including our light board operator.
She said, “Yeah…that was my Dad. I invited him to the show….I’ve never seen him do that. Never seen him cry in my entire life.”
That night will forever stick with me.
Go make your art.
Go make them feel.
